


A Thousand and One Stars

by StarlightGale



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, And WHO TAUGHT YOU ABOUT THESE THINGS YOU'RE LIKE NINE, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Crossover With Odin Sphere, Multi, My daughter Mercedes shows up at the start, Polyamory, Reincarnation Woes, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightGale/pseuds/StarlightGale
Summary: It hurts. When this life is over, they won’t remember any of these moments, and who knows what’ll happen next time. What names will they have? What will the circumstances of their births be? Who will end up with who when they get to that age?Or, that slightly angsty reincarnation AU that no one asked for.





	A Thousand and One Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I remembered as I was writing this that there's going to be a character in Three Houses named Mercedes and I started internally screaming like GOD I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS FOR FE/ODIN SPHERE CROSSOVERS AND NOW THERE'S ANOTHER SET OF CHARACTERS WHO SHARE NAMES OWAIN SHARES HIS FATES ALTER EGO'S NAME WITH GWENDOLYN'S DAD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD AND THERE'S A GWENDOLYN IN BINDING BLADE.
> 
> AND THAT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG

The stories say that their world is the second one and that the first ended over a thousand years ago. Both the living and the dead were witness to the judgement of heaven and earth—as millions of lives were snuffed out by erupting volcanoes, floods, and earthquakes, two factions of gods tore at each other. They were called the Dalr and the Strönd, or the Gods of the Valley and the Gods of the Shore. In the end, the Dalr were the victors of their conflict and the world they reformed is the one that still stands today. A happy ending, if bittersweet for the loss of the old world.

“But were the Strönd actually _evil_?” Boey remembers one of his brothers asking.

Their father laughed dryly. “Not in the slightest. In fact, if I weren’t afraid of the heavens striking me down, I’d actively criticize the Dalr for striking down every last Strönd, including the ones that peacefully surrendered.”

He never noticed, but Boey shuddered slightly, the memory of the blade of light that obliterated his queen ever vivid in his mind.

Human beings don’t know what causes new stars to appear; only that, every century or so, constellations like Ardere’s Flame or Aisling’s Staff get a new light strung between the old. Boey, on the other hand, knows. He knows that every time a new star appears in the sky, it marks the rebirth of a Strönd in their latest human body. It’s because his existence as Boey is but the twelfth incarnation of the god Dryas, god of forests and astronomy, as well as the herald of summer and protector of children. The last one always made him feel embarrassed because he didn’t consider it something to be praised for—it’s common sense, nothing more.

Of course, he never returns to the world knowing that he’s Dryas, or rather his soul is that of Dryas. He comes into the world a kicking, screaming infant who is unable to understand anything, and that includes the memories that just happen to be there in his brain. He grows up unable to comprehend the knowledge he has of ages long since gone, and it usually isn’t until his teenage years that he had what he’s nicknamed his ‘Awakening.’ It always happens on a clear night when he’s looking up at the stars, staring at the constellation they call the Bow of Dryas, when it hits him like an avalanche. He collapses, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of a million memories arranging and clicking together in ways that _finally_ make sense, and when he wakes up, he realizes what he was, what he’s become, and what he still is.

After that, looking at the night sky becomes painful because, as his memories reveal, the other Strönd never remembered. He’s the only one who ever remembers the experiences of his past lives, and that of his brethren, all the way back to the many millennia he existed as Dryas. He knows when he’s reunited with his queen, or the goddess who ended being his spouse, as much as they bicker, but they don’t know. They never know. Only him. And then he feels frightfully alone because in the endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth, he is alone with no one to talk to about anything from the distant past.

Almost. Every life, he eventually reunites with one of the faeries, who was but a toddler during his last years as Dryas, and little Mercedes makes it her mission every time he dies to track down next body unlucky enough to be born with the memories of a near-forgotten god. When she finally does, it makes his ordeal just a little more bearable.

“So, what’s the story with this life so far?” She stands on her toes and brushes at his fluffy, uneven fringe. “You got snowflakes for hair and warm earth for skin. I like it! Better than last time when you were a pale ginger. It’s always redheads who cause problems.”

She always dons the same clothes when she throws on her human disguise—an emerald green cloak, matching the color associated with her race’s creator, with a shimmering sequined hood that she always keeps up. She can never fix the long, pointed ears typical of the wood faeries she is princess of, and she is lucky that the oversized braids framing her face help hide them from the front.

Boey scoffs. “Pardon, but Lady Ardere was a redhead _and_ happens to be a redhead in her latest life.”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I also recall that, when you finally introduced me to her after I turned three hundred, she called me a ‘tiny thing.’”

“It was meant to be endearing.”

“I didn’t like it,” Mercedes huffs, though she gives him a wry smile. “Nice to see you again, Dryas, Prince of Forests and Shepherd of Stars.”

“Nice to see you, too, Princess Mercedes, Duchess of the Ash Wood,” Boey replies.

It’s not a particularly exciting life to relay to his former subordinate, but he does it all the same as they walk through the hustle and bustle of the riverside town. In this life, he is the firstborn of a couple named Tom and Teela, from the little coastal village of Novis on the island nation of Arcadia. He has two younger brothers named Orie and Beau and, more recently, a younger sister called Hope. Like previous lives, his affinity for earth magic was noticed from an early age and though initially content with poor but fulfilling life, he eventually accepted an invitation from the priest of the nearby temple to study.

“ _Wait._ If you’ve already met Ardere to know what hair color she has, then you’ve probably met Thora and Aisling at this point,” Mercedes says.

“Yes, fate seems to work in strange ways.” _Or the Dalr just like seeing him writhe in emotional agony._ “Once again, I have the fortune of having them as my childhood friends and, this time, they are named Celica, Mae, and Genny, respectively.”

Mercedes turns to him, eyes widening, and she bounces on her toes excitedly.

 “Wait, wait, Celica?! As in Celica, current leader of the _Knights of Seraphim_?”

Boey quirks an eyebrow. “I’m wearing their emblem, you know. I’m more surprised that you’re aware of Celica specifically.”

Mercedes stops bouncing and frowns. “Hey, we faeries have to keep tabs on all the bigshot heroes and royalty, you know? Some of them carry weapons that could literally end our existence if they decide we’re doing more harm than good, and I like to think we do good!”

“You do. I don’t see why you’re scared.”

“Blame Onyx.”

“Ah, the Vulcan king. One of Adere’s few mistakes.”

They stop at a little stand selling shaved ice, and the vendor nods respectfully when he notices the flame-shaped brooch pinning Boey’s brown cape. He has his ice with lemon-flavored syrup and Mercedes goes with cherry.

“Yes, anyway, if you could guess based on that,” Boey says, relishing briefly in the sweetly-sour tang that tickles his taste buds. “When Celica was asked to replace the previous commander because of her evident talent and wit, Mae, Genny, and I all rushed to complete our training so we could join her.”

“And the weapon you picked up? Because last I checked, the Knights of Seraphim like their magically-endowed members to have practice with something that can deal physical damage. You know, in case magic isn’t cutting it.”

Boey shrugs. “A bow, with a dagger for backup.”

“That explains the quiver.”

They linger together in silence for a time, Boey standing while Mercedes plops down on a large stone. Even after several centuries, she’s still so tiny and could be mistaken for a child, even though she’s technically a teenager now.

“It doesn’t stop hurting no matter how many times it happens, right?”

Boey nods. They’ve had this conversation many, many times before, so many times that he’s lost count.

“You meet up again with your original group from the old days and you know it’s Ardere, Thora, and Aisling because they act the same, have the same mannerisms, the same aura for crying out loud. But they don’t know they’re Ardere, Thora, and Aisling, and they don’t know you’re Dryas. To them, you’re…well, whatever you ended up being.”

The sun reflects off the water, and the river sparkles near-blindingly. A group of schoolchildren trots by, the tallest boy complaining about homework, and a family birds chirps in their springtime nest.

“In some ways, it is a blessing.”

Mercedes looks at him, bewildered. Boey chuckles.

“I mean yes, it hurts because I’m the only who ever remembers everything we’ve gone through together. At the same time, every life we’ve lived ended up having new experiences depending on where we were born and how things unfolded over time.”

“How many times have you fallen in love with Ardere or Thora?”

“This life would mark,” Boey counts on his fingers. “Four times for Ardere and seven times for Thora. This is the second time we’re all, well…”

“The feeling’s mutual all around?” Mercedes giggled mischievously. “Don’t remind me. I wasn’t old enough that my mother would even _think_ to let me near the Golden Palace during one of the gods’ orgies, but I vaguely remember you, Thora, and Ardere hanging all over each other every single day. You might as well have started going at it right in front of me!”

“Mercedes?”

“Yeah?”

“Which of the older faeries is attempting to corrupt you and can you lead me to them?”

His question goes to empty air, as the rock Mercedes had perched herself on no longer has someone sitting on it—only her empty cup and spoon. Boey looks up and sees a spark of light fly through the sky, in the shape of a butterfly with wings emitting the colors of the forest. He only shakes his head and sighs.

That girl won’t be an adult another three hundred years. For now, she’s just a brat who needs better role models.

~*~*~

It is the first life he’s ever become a knight of sorts, and the Knights of Seraphim aren’t even considered proper knights. They’re a scattered organization of warriors, all with religious associations, that make it their duty to protect traveling pilgrims and villages in the frontier from monsters and brigands. The headquarters is in the Valley of Zofia, and though the ancient fort where they live is drafty and becomes an icebox in winter, it’s home. The other members come from similar backgrounds and he gets along well enough with them, though he’s never gotten along with Jesse, self-proclaimed ladies’ man, or Leon, who gives everyone who isn’t Sir Valbar snark and grief.

When he gets back from his brief visit to the riverside town, Mae and Celica are curled up on the bed in their shared room—Mae is asleep in Celica’s arms, and the redhead is gently stroking the mess of blossom pink tresses spilling onto the sheets. They’ve already shed their armor and boots for the day, and they still have yet to change into something more comfortable than their robes.

“Long patrol?” Boey asks, loosening the strap of his quiver and bringing it over his head.

“Unfortunately,” Celica unhappily replies. “And this one got struck by a bandit’s poisoned dagger. She’s getting better, but the medicine Genny gave her made her sleepy.”

Boey bites down on his lower lip as gets off the rest of his things, kicking off his boots, unpinning his cloak, and sliding off his leather armor. He walks over to the half-empty fruit bowl and plucks out a juicy orange, looking at the blood-stained bandages adorning Mae’s wrist out of the corner of his eyes, before his gaze flicks up to her face. Her expression is the epitome of bliss and he can only guess it’s because she’s got her face in Celica’s breasts.

Typical.

“What did you need to do in town, anyway?” Celica ceases her stroking. Mae whines childishly in her sleep.

“Someone wanted to meet with me,” Boey peels the orange, eventually tossing the skin into the wicker basket they use for trash.

“Who?”

Boey makes a shrugging motion. “I guess you could say she was a fan? Just wanted to ask about my work.”

It’s the truth in some ways and a lie in others. Celica seems to see it more as a truth and nods understandingly. Mae nuzzles closer to her.

“So warm…”

“Oh, come now, Mae. Maybe Boey wants a turn?” Celica teases. “Or maybe he’d like yours instead?”

Boey’s cheeks flush and he looks away as he pops an orange piece in his mouth. “No thank you. I would like a nap, but Gray is shirking paperwork. _Again_.”

“He does that a lot, now doesn’t he?” Celica’s lips curl in a frown. “I need to talk with Alm about this.”

 _Alm._ Or as Boey once knew him, Llew, because it wasn’t as if he, Celica, Mae, and Genny were the only Strönd thrown into an endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth as humans. Llew, in fact, had been another of Ardere’s loves and her king. This time around such flames of romance didn’t exist, though his dorky personality and love of cats is ever present, as always. Boey admits it’s endearing, and they did have one brief encounter when he was still existed as Dryas…

His head falls out of the gutter as he bounces on the mattress and falls on his back, another orange section entering his mouth. He rolls over on his side and reaches over, briefly tracing a finger over Mae’s back. She lets out a soft giggle and he almost thinks she’s woken up just from that.

“Tickles…!”

Boey smiles warmly and Celica laughs, voice sounding like an angel. Mae has her adorable moments, even if she can be a pain in the rear most days, most months, most _lives_. It’s just one of the many things he loves about her, and he has another list dedicated to Celica, too.

It hurts. When this life is over, they won’t remember any of these moments, and who knows what’ll happen next time. What names will they have? What will the circumstances of their births be? Who will end up with who when they get to that age? He reminds himself that it’s just how things are, that’s how the Dalr decided to mete out their punishment, and that the only thing he can do is cherish each and every moment until they have to start anew yet again.


End file.
